


She Stood For Peace

by HeartInCustody (orphan_account)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Family, Gen, Pre-Canon, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 21:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/HeartInCustody
Summary: The day the Exalt took his final breath was the day she was handed the torch. A heavy task, Emmeryn shoulders the weight of Ylisse for her people and her beloved siblings.





	She Stood For Peace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kikibug13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikibug13/gifts).



> Comments are beautiful.
> 
> Keep in mind that: Chrom is 6 years younger than Emm, Lissa is 10 years younger than Emm.
> 
> \--
> 
> This was a [commission](https://ko-fi.com/H2H2EHB4) for kikibug13.

_i. nine years_

It is only a day before her tenth birthday when the world decides to suspend her by her feet.

She remembers the rushed voices, the panic buzzing in the castle walls like angered hornets, the increasing tempo of her heart as it flutters against her ribcage. But she wears the mask she was told to wear, visage no longer a window to the emotions that boiled beneath. There’s cacophony surrounding them and Emmeryn is given pitying stares as she takes her first step from child to adult.

The Exalt has taken his final breath.

The torch is in her hands.

* * *

 

_ii. twelve years_

Morning breaks over the horizon, slabs of sunlight filtering in through the dual floor-to-ceiling windows breath life into the room. The sky is clear and brings a gentle breeze, and though it’s wrong to think, today Emmeryn does not want to be Exalt.

Here she sits, weighing elements of politics in both hands. Two years of this, so she’s well accustomed to the weight of the work.

Lissa’s insistency proves difficult to ignore, demanding tugs at Emmeryn’s robes as she practically _begs_ for attention.

Ever the eldest sister, Emmeryn kneels to her height. “What is it, Lissa?”

“Play!”

It’s one word, one that she has been hearing for well over the last ten minutes. She can only imagine the type of woman her little sister would grow into. Brash and impatient, or determined and kind?

“Lady Lissa,” Ylisse’s Hierarch breaches her line of sight as he goes to grab her hand. Lissa fusses, and the very action sands away at the patience lining his face. “Your big sister is very busy right now. You can play with her later.”

 “It’s okay, let me talk to her,” Emmeryn says. Request granted, she takes Lissa’s hand. At Lissa’s pouting, the gentle smile that tugged at her lips widens just. “I’ll finish soon. Then you, me, and Chrom can go to the gardens. Okay?”

She extends her pinky finger to Lissa, a silent promise. Lissa regards it for a handful of seconds before she grips it (or rather, _tries_ ) with her own.

“Okay,” she says, and she allows the Hierarch to lead her outside the chambers.

When the doors close, Emmeryn’s attention is dragged to the papers that pile at the desk. There’s the occasional request from a villager, a desperate wish to see their loved one swept into the maws of war _years_ ago. Emmeryn can’t bring herself to tell the truth to this mistress _just yet_.

Especially on such a beautiful day.

But even the requests of Ylisse sound more appealing than the _other_ option.

The current monarch of Plegia is _very_ different from its last ruler. Emmeryn had worked hard to mend the scars of war, to smooth the roughness between Ylisse’s neighboring country. Though their current monarch made demands that straddled the line of threatening and non-threatening.

Perhaps she was reading the message wrong – they had not raided villages, or Ylisse for that matter, but...

There’s a sense of foreboding that creeps up her spine any time the word ‘Plegia’ rings in her ears.

“Your Grace?” the voice is familiar, and she knows attached to it is a friendly face. The door creaks open just slightly before slamming shut. “Apologies, may I come in?”

“Of course, Philla,” Emmeryn responds, amused. Her childhood friend and retainer, Philla is clad in Pegasus Knight training gear. Despite her commanding attire, her breath rushes in and out of her. Emmeryn can’t help the giggle that bubbles past her lips. “It must be grand news for you to arrive so quickly.”

A blush dusts Philla’s face. “Forgive me,” she says. “And for opening the door. I should... be more respectful in your presence.”

“No,” Emmeryn shakes her head gently. “That’s not what I was implying. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Ah, that’s right,” Philla straightens. “Have you seen Lord Chrom? He is usually the first to sword practice, but we have not seen him.”

She sighs, rising from her seat. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized how late it’s been. He and Lissa had gotten into a little disagreement earlier...” Perhaps the main reason Lissa had sought her out that morning, despite fully knowing of ‘sister’s chores’. “He’s probably in his room. Allow me to get him.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I shall take my leave.”

Emmeryn proceeds down the hall, the sound of her shoes bounces back at her from the empty walls. There’s the occasional guard on patrol, but the majority have been excused for morning practice. Indeed it _was_ strange... Chrom was never tardy for practice – whether he argued with Lissa or not.

The answer to her pondering sputters back at her as she opens the door to Chrom’s room. His name dies on her lips, and she swings the door open without hesitance. Suddenly her heart is filled with the same panic that plagued her the day the previous Exalt had died.

Ajar is the bathroom door, and there’s a flurry of splashing noises that presses into her ears, knocks on her eardrum, chanting hurry, hurry, _hurry_ —

—Chrom’s head is submerged when she steps into the connecting room, and she glimpses his face, tightened as he struggles before his feet slip on the porcelain basin—

“My gods! _Chrom_!” his name bursts forward with her hurried steps. The sleeves of her robe slide down her arms as she dips her hands into the lukewarm water. Plastered to her skin, they are uncomfortably wet, but it’s the _least_ of her concern as she promptly plucks Chrom out of the water with all the strength she can muster.

He’s conscious, remarkably so, and she later she’ll realize had she arrived later...

Each cough racks his body, and she yanks the towel off the rack above their head. Emmeryn places her hand on his back as the water is expelled from his lungs. When he begins to straighten only to lurch as another surge of water climbs up his throat, she pats his back gently (“No, lean forward, you’re okay”) and drapes the towel over his shoulders.

She can practically _hear_ her pulse as her blood lances through her from the shock. Her heart clenches as his coughs begin to subside. His breathing is punctured with ragged inhales and exhales, but there’s no more water. He’s shaking, so what does she do now? If only Mother were here, she would’ve caught him sooner—

Emmeryn pulls him close, burying her face in the towel that covers his shoulders. Gods she was so _scared_ , she almost _lost_ him...

“I’m so sorry, Chrom,” her voice whispers against him, trembles with threadlike restraint. If only she hadn’t been so focused on the Exalt role, spending more time flipping through documents than with her _family_. “It’s my fault.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, she initially thinks as Chrom pulls away from her, incredulity scribbled across his face.

“Why,” he coughs once. Twice, and Emmeryn’s afraid there’s more water in his lungs. His eyes are wet and she knows, he’s _just_ as scared as her. “Why are you blaming yourself? You _saved_ me. Emm? Emm, I’m okay. Don’t be sad, don’t cry—”

The tears prick her eyes, burn her vision and she can’t look at him.

So she holds him.

.

.

The evening sun sets the fields ablaze in golden fire. Lissa gives both Emmeryn and Chrom a flower, giggling happily as she runs. And though he says he doesn’t like it, Emmeryn sees it buoying in the glass of water by his bedside.

* * *

 

_iii. eighteen years_

“I can’t do it, Emm…” Lissa sighs dejectedly at the staff. Emmeryn’s lips part to speak, but it is Chrom who cuts in front of her.

“Maybe you’re just not cut out.”

Lissa shoots him a withering look. “That’s not true! I’ll be doing all the healing for the Shepherds, so you’d better be nice to me or else!”

“You gotta be able to _do it_ first though.”

“Like _you’re_ one to talk! Frederick still beats you in swordplay every time _._ ”

“That’s not true! I won twice! Maybe… once, but still!”

“Chrom, Lissa, please.” Emmeryn breaches their bickering. It’s nothing new, and though she _should_ be annoyed, she finds it comforting. As she grew older, she was given less and less time being with her siblings. It was something she grew to accept, but not something she liked. “You will both grow into your roles – I have faith in both of you. Neither one of your skills is accomplished overnight.”

Lissa huffs. “Yeah, but I feel like I’ve been practicing _forever_...” In that instant, they can practically _see_ the idea that springs to her mind. “Hey, why don’t we go into town? We haven’t been able to together like this in a while. What do you say, Emm? Please?”

“I would like that,” she doesn’t promise. Not after disappointing them again and again. “It would be nice to get out of the castle.”

It is Chrom’s silence that drags her attention next.

“Chrom?”

“I don’t know, Emm,” he says, shuffling the toe of his boot into the grass. “Is that such a good idea? You remember what happened that one time and- I just don’t think you should.”

“Things are different now,” she insists. The puckered skin hidden beneath locks of hair tingles in response. “I could never forget the animosity of our people. But you must understand they were suffering too.”

He narrows his eyes at the ground, the blades of grass beneath his foot smothered and peeled back to reveal the scalp of dirt. “That doesn’t excuse them for hurting you! We provide everything for our people. They had no right to say those things or throw those stones. I don’t know how you can be so forgiving. We can give them what they need without meeting them.”

“They are our _people_ , Chrom,” her tone of voice adopts something more forceful. She begins to feel the prickle of annoyance. It was not a friendly topic – for any of them. “Without the support of the people and peace, a kingdom will fall. Force cannot always be met with force.”

And now he looks at her, disbelief etched in his eyes. “I can’t be as forgiving as you, Emm.”

“I’m not asking you to be. But it is your role to protect the people. You have to understand that much.”

Silence drips by as they hold one another’s gaze. Chrom remains unconvinced, she thinks, but that’s okay. She believes in him, and she knows with time that he _will_ come to accept the people.

“Soo... Is that a ‘no’?” Lissa chimes in, referring to their previous conversation. “Because we can keep practicing if it is.”

Emmeryn shakes her head, chooses her words carefully. “No, I... I think we need this. Let me speak to Philla and the Heirarch, but we can’t be long.” As she rises, Lissa stands with her, face practically splitting with joy. “Do you want to come too, Chrom?”

He says nothing. There’s no indication whether he wishes to go or stay.

“Fine, but promise we’ll leave if someone says the wrong thing.”

“Of course.”

And at that, Emmeryn allows herself to smile as well. She holds her hand out to Chrom, who takes it, mumbling something about ‘being too old to hold hands’.

That day marked the last day the villages were unfamiliar with the taste of fire and the smell of smoke.

* * *

 

_iv. twenty-five_

“Be careful out there.”

“Chrom’ll be fine, Emm! I’ll heal him if anything happens!”

“She was referring to you...”

It had been decided that Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick would visit neighboring villages. Word of an uprising of bandit attacks had reached the halidom of Ylisse. Unable to leave, Emmeryn had no choice but to send the two of them and one of Ylisse’s most trusted knight. She did not doubt any of their skills. But she couldn’t fight back this feeling of dread poking into her side. It was persistent, an annoyance that was present for well over a week.

Something was coming, she knew this. But she didn’t know _what_.

A familiar dread, much like the one that chewed at her mind simply at the mention of Plegia.

“...Emm? Something bothering you?” Chrom’s eyebrows are furrowed in concern, and Lissa wears a worried expression of her own.

“No,” she smiles then, pushes aside the unruly thoughts. “Don’t worry.  I’ll be here when you return.”

There’s hesitance, but slowly he nods. “We’ll come back as soon as we can. If you need us back, send Philla and we’ll come running.”

Lissa bobs her head in agreement. “Yeah, we’re here for you, Emm!”

“I ask you put your trust in me, Your Grace,” Frederick says by the door. “I will make sure no harm befalls Lord Chrom or Lady Lissa.”

“Thank you, Frederick,” she says gently. She looks at the three of them, and in that moment, the feeling of dread is gone.

(For now, she’ll later realize.)

“I know you will all return safe and sound.”

Emmeryn watches them leave until they are well out of sight. She sends a quick prayer to Naga, asking to light their path, guide them, beneath the deep sea of the sky. It’s a clear day that always brought her ease. And for now, she’ll wait.

They promised they’d return.

There was no one else she trusted more than Chrom and Lissa.


End file.
